


cold

by middleagedwolf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, blah blah, bye, sad bucky, this was longer in my notebook, why did i write this im so lame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middleagedwolf/pseuds/middleagedwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't cried since his first night in the army. He remembers it clearly, clutching an old picture of Steve to his chest, lying. “He's my brother.” Everyone else had pictures of their girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cold

It was dark. Bucky's left arm was cold, but his right arm was hot. He felt like he might burst at any moment, into flames or tears he didn't know. Steve was next to him, all muscles and healthy now. He had labored breathing, another nightmare? About him? Bucky gripped Steve's arm. He hasn't cried since his first night in the army. He remembers it clearly, clutching an old picture of Steve to his chest, lying. “He's my brother.” Everyone else had pictures of their girls.

He screwed his face up, a hot, burning heat in his stomach. His hands trembled and his eyes seared. He felts tears, hot and solid, welling up behind his eyelids. He let out a gasping sob. Bucky felt like he hadn't breathed since he fell from that train so many years ago, the screaming wind ripping the breath out from his lungs as he plummeted to the ground. He couldn't breathe. His hair was too long, too hot, framing his neck, sticking to his skin. His arm was too heavy. Steve was too quiet.

He didn't realize he was full on sobbing until a pair of thick arms wrapped around him. He buried his head into Steve's chest, his whole body trembling as Steve ran fingers through his hair and rubbed his back in slow, smooth circles. Maybe Steve is consoling him? He can't hear anything. It feels like he's underwater. This goes on for twenty minutes. Forty. He's still crying.

His eyes throb when he wakes up. Fingers are still running through his hair, a hand still on his back.


End file.
